


like you imagined (when you were young)

by distractionpie



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot, Secretly a Virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8618683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: There are things that David Webster has never shared with anyone before knowing Joseph Liebgott, and war is a difficult time for handling delicate things.





	

Damp seeps through Webster’s trousers where they press against the rough stone floor and the chill of it makes his knees throb, a dull pain that works its way up his right leg in counterpoint to the sting of his scalp as Lieb's fingers twist in his hair, the solid heat of Lieb's cock thrusting into his mouth. He'll be hoarse later, but the weather is still poor enough that he can explain it away as a touch of the cold. "You've got cocksucker lips, Web, anybody ever tell you that?" Joe hisses, "Every time you're standing around harping on about all your historical or cultural bullshit or pouting over your orders I just want to put you on your knees, use that mouth for what it was meant for."

Webster moans and swallows around Joe's dick, gazing up at him. Under other circumstances the words might annoy him, but when they're like this and Lieb is looking at him with such heat, it's hard to care about anything outside the moment.

"Look at you getting my cock good and wet so I can fuck you with it, you want it so badly don’t you?” Even in the dim lighting he can see the way Joe smirks, those wicked lips sending shivers through Web with every word. Lieb relinquishes his grip on Webster's hair, instead grabbing him by the shirt, tugging him up and spinning him around until he's pinned against the wall with Liebgott pressed along the length of his back.

He can hear Lieb unfastening his belt behind him and Webster palms his cock as he shoves his own ODs down to his knees, as bare as he can afford to be when somebody might come looking for them at any minute.

Winter is finally giving way to spring, but Lieb’s hands are still chilly as he places them on Webster’s ass, kneads the cheeks crudely for a moment and Webster is about to complain at the tease when Liebgott's bony fingers shove into him, a rough stretch tempered by the fact Lieb knows exactly how to touch him, reaching for that spot that sets Webster’s legs shaking, has him begging for Liebgott’s cock with a few quick thrusts. “I… goddamn Lieb, do it,” he demands, and this is the one thing Lieb never denies him - the familiar ache as Lieb’s cock fills him to the limit, forces the air from his lungs and any coherent thought from his mind. For several long moments all he can do is focus on holding himself up, just shutting his eyes and taking it as Liebgott drives into him with quick, urgent thrusts.

"What was the best fuck you ever had?" Lieb’s rasping voice in his ear is maddeningly controlled, a mastery of himself that David wants to break, he wants Lieb to be driven as crazy by this as he is, so he braces one arm against the wall, begins rocking his hips back to meet Liebgott’s rhythm and urge him on.

Lieb is undeterred though. "Was there some doctor back in England?” he pants, “That why you stayed away so long?”

“Oh for… fuck, no Liebgott,” Webster says, and he can feel the annoyance sparking in him now, why is Lieb always so determined to anger him at the most unnecessary moments? He hadn’t even been in England that long, “You know most of tha- ahhhh…. that time was stuck in the replacement depot.”

“You wouldn’t fuck a replacement,” Lieb says, and at least he sounds certain of that. One of his arms snakes around Web’s waist, hand sliding under his shirt and stroking up his belly to his chest, where he pinches at Web's nipple hard enough that Web can't help but cry out. Webster pulls one hand away from the wall to wrap it around his cock, fucking his fist every time one of Lieb's thrusts jerk his hips forwards.

"Did you ever get it like this from any of your college boys?" Lieb snarls, twisting at Webster's nipple until his cry is closer to a sob, "They ever make you beg for it?"

"P-please, Lieb, fuck..."

"C’mon Web, I wanna hear it. Tell me how all those fancy Harvard boys fuck and I'll give it to you better."

And Webster is desperate for it but, "I... I never-"

"You never had anybody fuck you as good as me? That it?" Joe presses, fingers tightening on Webster's hips to a grip that will leave bruises.

"I never had anybody," Webster confesses breathlessly. It’s not something he’s interested in broadcasting - he knows that it’s strange, that if it got out to the other guys in Easy it would draw a deserved mix of mockery and pity from guys wondering what was wrong with him that he could get through high school, college, and basic without taking anybody to bed – but Joe knows everything else about him, has worked his way into every corner of Webster’s existence, so why not this?

"Nobody fucked you... you only fucked girls?" Lieb asks, voice rough with some emotion David can't place.

And Webster doesn't know what compels his honesty but he can't stop the words falling from his lips, "Never fucked girls... I... there was nobody."

Joe freezes, even the rise and fall of his chest ceases as his breath comes to a halt, and despite not being able to see his face Webster realizes admitting that was a mistake.

“Lieb…” he says, and it comes out breathy and pleading. He can sense a sudden wrongness between them even though he doesn't understand why it's appeared, but he's too deep into the moment to think clearly. His body, so close to the edge, acts without his mind, back arching and hips rocking back against Lieb's, chasing the friction he has been so suddenly deprived of.

And then Lieb makes a sound that can only be described as a snarl and Webster had thought that Lieb had been fucking him hard before, but it pales in comparison to his ferocity now as his hips snap forward, rocking Web’s whole body with the force so that he has to quickly re-brace himself to avoid being slammed into the wall.  It doesn't even matter, he can feel himself coming undone on Joe's cock. Despite Lieb’s apparent loss of control, his thrusts are still hitting the mark every time. In a matter of moments, Webster is painting the wall with his come, and Lieb just fucks him right through it, pounding into Webster's oversensitive hole until he can't breathe, can barely hold himself up on shaking legs as he almost whites out with sensation. He can feel it when Lieb fills him, and there's a moment where everything feels normal, Joe's breath heavy against David's neck as he rests a moment, but then Lieb pulls away and takes the illusion with him.

David would never have described Joe as tender or affectionate, and they were both too aware of the risks to linger after their liaisons, lest somebody come to see where they’d slipped away to, but there is an unfamiliar coldness to Joe now. He doesn’t look at Webster as he redresses, doesn’t step close and run his hands over Webster one final time under the guise of checking that he’s properly presentable, doesn’t say a word.

They always leave separately, better to avoid attention, but watching Lieb turn away without so much as a nod of acknowledgement cuts deep. Webster's stomach twists with a surge of shame that he quashes viciously, because he's committed no wrong here, Liebgott had asked a question and he'd answered. Having been a virgin at twenty-two might be unusual, but it was hardly an offence.

He wants to go after Liebgott, confront him and make him shake the attitude, but he also knows him well enough to know that if Lieb's in a temper he's not even going to consider reason until he's cooled off a bit, and a public argument about the things that happened between them would end in a discharge at best. He has no option but to bide his time, waiting for a moment to pull Liebgott aside and ask what the hell has gotten into him, but Lieb keeps ducking him, and then new orders come in and they're on the move again and there's no time to think on personal matters, not in the horror of Landsberg or the grim days that follow. Lieb stays distant as the weeks go by, instead of taking his frustrations to Webster he seems to have decided to bottle them up. Part of Web wants to keep chasing him, demand if not normalcy then at least an explanation, but he doesn't even know where to start.

The war ends but instead of peace in Zell am See things only seem to sour further, first the old man on the mountain and a chasm growing between him and Lieb that David doesn't know how to cross. Then Janovec dies, pointlessly, stupidly, avoidably if only David hadn't hurried him along; and they all but lose Grant to one of their own. The war in Europe was supposed to be over, but instead the losses just keep racking up.

There's still checkpoints to man, patrols and lookouts, and training because eighty-one points just aren't good enough, but it’s mindless, just going through the ordered motions. In his downtime he’s listless, swims until he’s exhausted, or walks through fields and tries to muster up a daydream about home and the life he left behind but it all feels so foreign now, like the memories of another man, someone who’s shoes David isn’t sure he’ll be able to fit into again.

It’s late on a Thursday afternoon and he’s back in the house 2nd platoon have been billeted in, having been relieved early from checking papers by McClung, who’d come citing a rambling chain of favours that Webster hadn’t bothered to follow beyond the part that meant he was getting early relief.

He’s taken the opportunity to shower while he can enjoy the solitude even if the water still doesn’t run hot, and then headed to his bunk hoping to snatch a nap, to get some decent sleep in while everyone else was out and the place was relatively quiet but when he gets up to the room and removes his rifle there’s a folded paper resting on his sheets that he definitely didn’t put there.

He can’t think of a single sensible reason he’d be receiving a note rather than a message in person, but the paper is placed too neatly to be there by accident.

He picks it up and unfolds it, running his thumb over the creases.

The note is short just ‘ _Hotel Berner – 2033’_ written in Liebgott’s cramped scrawl. He recognises the name, it's a hotel currently part of the United States Army occupation of the town, but it's not yet being used. As Webster understands it they're saving it for any high up officers who might visit because it’s far too fancy to let the regular enlisted guys near. The numbers confuse him for a moment because he reads them as an oddly specific time, wonders why thirty- _three_ minutes past eight, before he realises that it must be a room number.

The note is either a summons or an invitation, either way an oddly personal move after weeks of withdrawn professionalism.

He doesn’t know why Lieb would want to meet there, would suddenly want to meet at all. He’s half tempted to stay away because he just doesn’t have the patience to deal with running about chasing after Liebgott right now, but the half of him that has missed Lieb and those rare moments when the two of them could relax a little and things were good and easy, that half is the one which guides his steps until he’s passing through the hotel doors.

It’s eerie inside. It ought to be something familiar, the opulent décor a nostalgic reminder of the places that his family holidayed in this youth, but these days any colour that isn’t olive drab seems garish to Webster’s eyes and his footsteps echo in the empty lobby, sound filling up a space meant for so many more people. As per the note, he makes his way to the second floor, passing row after row of tightly locked doors before he reaches one that’s slightly ajar.

_2033_

He opens the door and for a moment his breath catches. He can see why they would reserve this place for officers, the room confirms his suspicions that this hotel is Austria’s answer to the Waldorf Astoria or someplace equally exclusive like it. The décor is lavish; thick velvet curtains hang around the windows and on the towering four poster bed that stands against one wall, there are two plush looking couches in the centre of the room, a record player and an armchair by the window, and in one corner of the room is a deep claw foot bathtub with taps and a drain plumbed into the wall.

Once Webster might have belonged in a room like this, but now he feels caught off guard - shabby, out of place and unprepared. He’s fairly sure they aren’t supposed to be here, and he can’t imagine why Lieb would pick a place like this to meet with him – it’s private, but no more so than a walk in the woods would be and surely that would be more convenient than however Lieb’s gotten the keys to this place.

Liebgott is seated in the chair by the window, watching Webster with a guarded anticipatory expression.

David steps though the entryway and stumbles. He glances down, wondering what it could be and realises that Joe had left his boots stacked by the door, is sitting with just socks on his feet. It’s such a small thing but it makes him look oddly soft. Boots are precious things in war, only to be removed for bathing and sleeping, and oftentimes not even the latter. He’s vulnerable without them, and something about that eases Webster’s nerves about what in the world Lieb asked him here for.

He bends down, unlaces and tugs off his own boots, lining them up neatly beside Lieb’s and shucks his jacket as he crosses the room, drapes it over the back of a sofa as he comes to a halt in the middle of the room. He needs Lieb to meet him halfway.

For a long moment it seems like Liebgott might just ignore his presence entirely, but Lieb looks over at Webster and says, “You should have told me.”

“What are you talking about?” Webster racks his brain trying to work out what has prompted such an opaque opening statement.

“You know what I-” Lieb begins, but then he pauses, perhaps seeing something in David’s face that makes it clear that he genuinely has no idea what is happening right now. “About the sex. You should have told me that you’d never, y’know, done anything.”

Webster can’t help but let out a scoff of laughter. Told him and gotten that disdainful reaction sooner – it was hardly an inviting prospect. “ _That_ ’s what this is about? For fucks sake Lieb.”

"You let your first time be on the floor of a barn," Joe snaps. It's a night Webster remembers vividly. They'd been temporarily paused en route to Mourmelon and quartered in a half abandoned village, bunked six to a room and on a light rotating watch. He can perfectly picture the way he hadn't been able to keep his eyes to himself as Lieb had stripped down to his skivvies to wash off in the room’s basin, the moment their gazes met and Lieb had clearly noticed the lust in Webster's gaze. Webster had fled the room, making his way across the village and trying to persuade himself that he'd be able to pass off his flushed face as the product of some passing illness, but Lieb had chased after him, cornered him by a farmhouse. Web had braced for a beating, only to receive Lieb's mouth crushed against his own, before Lieb muttered, 'I knew it' then crowded him into the barn and turned his world inside out. He’s not sure how on earth that relates to Lieb’s sudden strangeness though.

“What does that have to do with _anything_?” Webster asks, it’s not a good excuse for Lieb freezing him out and it certainly doesn’t explain why they’re in this hotel.

“Because that’s not how you’re supposed to…” Lieb shakes his head. “You didn’t know what you were doing, I could have…”

He isn’t making sense and David can feel his anger rising, he doesn’t know what’s gotten into Lieb but he didn’t come here to be judged. "How I’m _supposed_ to…? What are you, my priest, about to lecture on the evils of sodomy and fornication?” Jesus, he should never even have taken his boots off, there’s no way he sticking around for this. He’d known Lieb could be a dick sometimes, so could they all when under so much stress, but this is going too far.

“What the fuck, Webster?” Lieb is standing now, closing the distance between them. “You think that I… jesus if anybody was doing wrong it was me.”

He sounds annoyed, but for the first time in weeks David doesn’t feel like he’s the target of Lieb’s ire. “You?”

“I was careless, I just assumed you could take it. I can’t believe you decided to come back for a second time after having that as your first.”

“Wait, you’re acting like this because you think the sex was bad?” David can’t believe the words he’s hearing or saying. He’d had his urges quenched and he’s assumed that Lieb had achieved the same thing. What else was there to sex?

Lieb shrugs uncomfortably. “I shouldn’t have been so rough… I wouldn’t have if I knew you were a virgin.”

“I'm not a girl. I wasn't daydreaming about silk sheets and flowers," Webster says, with a roll of his eyes. Certainly, he wouldn’t have imagined an experience quite like the one he had, not the bruised wrists or scraped shins, and definitely not standing a sore limbed watch in the hours immediately afterward, but the war has rewritten so many of his expectations. "And in case you hadn't noticed, there was a war on."

Joe glares towards the window. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't have _any_ standards for these things. What did you think about, before m- the war, I mean?"

Webster shrugs. "What all guys think about I suppose." A hand or a mouth on his cock, a receptive body to rub against; and later, when his reading materials had been less closely monitored, he'd wondered what it might be like to slide between a man's thighs, have a man perform the same on him. It doesn't seem wise to admit that he'd flinched away from crass talk, that Lieb has shown him things he'd barely dared to think about, not when Joe seems to be taking the news that he's never fucked anyone else so... oddly.

"Tell me what you imagined, what you used to think about when your touched yourself," Lieb says, voice dropping low as he leans into David’s space. "You touched yourself, right?”

"Seriously?” Webster pulls a face. “I said I'd never had sex with anyone before, not that I'd just escaped a monastery. Of course I touched myself."

“So tell me what you wanted,” Lieb implores, he sounds eager but there’s a strain to it too, as if he wants to know but is worried about what he might hear.

“I… simple stuff…" Webster says. He'd tended to take a perfunctory approach to getting himself off, the thought of constructing elaborate fantasies of unmanageable acts with unattainable people more frustrating that titillating. "Y'know, hand jobs, getting my cock sucked,” and Lieb is shaking his head.

“C’mon Web, you’re supposed to be a writer, you must’ve had a better imagination than that. Gimme some description.”

“My skill is writing about stuff I actually know about,” Webster complains, and Lieb bites his lip at that. “But… there was stuff I read in books…”

Lieb smirks. “That’s more like it. Tell me about these books.”

“It wasn’t like I was reading smutty dime novels,” Webster points out, “I mean, it all comes back to the Iliad really.”

Lieb raises his eyebrows. “The what?”

Webster shakes his head, “It’s ancient Greek, not important, but it inspired other things, poems and such, being based on ancient Greek classics makes them literary enough that they’re printed even though they’re indisputably about men,” he’s getting side-tracked. "It most mostly poetry, it didn't detail specific acts, it was just the... the wanting, the admiration, the passion..." He's pretty sure Lieb is looking for raunchy anecdotes, and if he'd asked for what Webster he'd thought about since that first time with Joe he might have gotten some, but his collegiate knowledge of the way things went between men had been gleaned from the arts, a mental understanding but not a physical one. Mostly it had been salvation to find places where what he felt was written about as love, and not as illness or perversion. “The thought of wanting a man like that, of being wanted like that by a man,” all those years of study and he can’t find the words for such a simple thing, “That was what I wanted really.”

It sounds dumb, even to his own ears, but Lieb nods, looks focused and serious as he leans forward and says, “Yeah. I… I get that.”

Lieb is close enough now that their breaths are mingling, and Webster knows that as strange as things have been between them he doesn’t want Lieb any less than he did the first time, and he edges just a little closer, giving Lieb time to interrupt or pull back, but instead he meets Webster’s mouth with his own, an almost chaste brush of lips.

After weeks without a touch that wasn’t business-like and military that gentle press unravels something in Webster, a tension he hadn’t known he was carrying, and he tumbles Lieb down onto the couch, chasing more of the feel of Lieb's mouth on his, hands on his shoulders in a steady grip not going anywhere. And they've kissed before, but never like this, never slow and focused and unhurried. There's no fear of being caught, no pulling at clothes, no rushing to get to fucking. Just the sweet press of Lieb's lightly chapped lips, his coarse hands massaging Webster’s shoulders in small circles, and slow slide of their entwined tongues as Lieb holds him close.

Webster isn’t sure how much time they spend like that; he feels like he could go on with it forever, these lingering kisses and the slow thrum of lust through his body as they savour each other in the afternoon’s dying sunlight.

After an eternity they part and Lieb kisses beside Web’s ear and whispers, "I wanna, god Web, let me fuck you properly," he says, "Do it right, like I would've if I'd known.”

And even though David still isn’t sure he understands what this idea that Lieb has in his head of the _right_ way to fuck him he nods, because whatever it is he has no doubt that Lieb will make it good.

Lieb kisses his lips again, hotter and harder this time, groaning into his mouth. “You drive me crazy Web, ’cause I want to take my time with you, but I swear I could go off just from thinking about your goddamn mouth," Lieb confesses.

"You know, I could help with that," Webster offers, there’s not much he wouldn’t offer to Liebgott if he only asked. “Do you want me to take the edge off?”

He can’t imagine Lieb saying no, so he doesn’t wait for an answer before he moves off the couch to kneel in front of Liebgott. The carpet is soft under his knees, and unexpectedly warm – he guesses from hot water pipes that ran under the floor. Lieb reaches out and places a hand on his cheek. "This is about doing things properly for you Web; you don't have to-"

"I want to," Webster points out, and then he has a moment of inspiration, grins and turns Liebgott’s own words against him. “C’mon Lieb, let me suck your cock properly.”

“I… well, fuck, you know I’m not actually going to stop you,” Joe concedes, opening up his belt.

Normally he exposes as little of himself as possible, anything to mitigate the risk a little, but apparently he’s confident enough of their privacy to slide his pants all the way down to his ankles, kicking them off across the floor. There’s some oddly innocent about him sitting there in just his socks and slightly overlarge t-shirt, the hem skimming the tops of his thighs as he spreads them to allow Webster to kneel between them.

The first time he'd done this he'd been struggling between his own eagerness and the uncertainty that came from having only a theoretical knowledge of the task ahead, nearly gagging when he pushed too far too fast. He hadn't not into Harvard by being a slow learner though. Now he slips Lieb’s dick into his mouth with the smooth ease of practice, just letting his lips wrap tightly around it and sucking hard as he inches his way deeper.

"Sshhh... slow down, don't wanna choke you," Lieb says, running a hand softly through Webster's hair. Web fights the urge to roll his eyes. He believes Lieb means it, but he wishes he'd consider that maybe David had liked how overwhelming it felt, how his world narrowed down to just Lieb's cock and the sound of his voice. The gentle stroking of his hair is pleasant, but he wants more, looks up at Lieb, trying to express with his eyes what he needs.

"You're a natural at this aren't you, such a clever, talented mouth,” Lieb says, voice as soft as his touch. David can feel the tension in Lieb’s thighs and stomach as he fights to hold still, to not just use Web’s mouth like he usually does, and it feels like a challenge, makes Webster want to drive him out of control. He breaths in slow and deep through his nose, and then surges forward, swallowing Lieb down until his nose is almost pressed against Lieb’s belly.

“Jesus Web!” Joe cries out, and now his hips do jerk a little but if anything he tenses further, hands dropping from Webster’s hair to curl into fists as his own sides, and his control would be admirable if it weren’t so infuriating.

If Lieb isn’t going to fuck Web’s mouth like he wants him to, then David’s going to have to try something completely different, treat this as his chance to explore like they’ve never had time for before, and to tease Lieb as badly as Lieb is teasing him right now by holding back. He pulls away, making sure to make eye contact with Lieb as he licks his lips and smiles up at him, rethinking his approach to this.

Now as he leans forward once more he takes his time to swirl his tongue around the crown of Lieb’s cock, licking Lieb’s slit with teasing flicks of his tongue, lapping up the precome before he begins to kiss and lick his way slowly up the shaft until he can tilt his head to press a sloppy experimental kiss to Lieb’s balls.

When Liebgott moans and shivers Webster opens his mouth wide, stretching his jaw until he can fit the whole sac in and Lieb _howls_ his name. Even in the privacy of the hotel it’s almost obscenely loud, and the abandon in Lieb’s voice sends a thrill through Webster that settles right in his groin.

It’s different to sucking cock, his mouth feels fuller, there’s less room to use his tongue so he just focuses on sucking, but he’s not filled so deep, doesn’t have to worry about choking or gagging, so he takes his time, using one hand to stroke Lieb’s cock while the other rests between his own legs, rubbing at his trapped erection through his pants.

“Now there… there’s that imagination I… fuck…”

When he feels the stretch of his jaw getting too much, he lets Lieb’s balls fall from his mouth, licks at them and the base of his cock. His hand is doing all the real work, using the same quick efficient strokes he uses on himself during rare stolen moments alone when the frustration gets too much, complemented by the way he places open mouthed kisses on whatever areas his hand isn’t touching, until Lieb is gasping and finally surrendering the last shreds of his control, hips arching off the couch as he comes messily. Some of it makes it into Webster’s mouth, but he can feel the rest splatter across his cheeks and chin and Lieb stares down at him open mouthed.

“Fuck…” Lieb says, and then spends a few moments just opening and closing his mouth without making actual words. “I… fuck Web, I thought the plan was for you to help me take the edge off so I’d be able to take my time with fucking you, not for you to suck my brains out through my dick.”

“Uh huh,” Web says, not particularly concerned, his attention more on getting his belt and pants open so that he can free his own cock from its fabric constraints.

“Hey, hey, hold up,” Lieb says, and Webster hesitates. “Jeez, Web, I go to all this trouble to find a place with a nice bed and it’s like you’re determined not to use it.” He holds out a hand, and Webster lets himself be helped to his feet. He’s expecting stiff knees from kneeling for any length of time, but apparently a decent floor makes the world of difference because his legs don’t so much as twinge as he stands. It does look like a nice bed. He tugs his shirt over his head, lets it fall to the floor as he makes his way across the room. When he’s standing by the bed he pulls down his pants and Lieb lets out a low whistle and Webster turns, eyebrows raised. Lieb shrugs unapologetically. “I can’t believe I’ve missed out on getting you naked this whole time. You really have been working out.”

Webster laughs a little as he lets himself fall back onto the bed, and almost sinks into the mattress. It’s like sitting on a cloud, impossibly soft and the stuff of dreams after literal years of sleeping on the ground or in thin, hard army cots. It’s almost enough for him to say never mind the sex, he just wants Lieb to let him lie on this bed forever.

After a few moments of luxuriating Lieb joins him on the bed, having shucked his own t-shirt along the way. He spends a few long minutes trailing lazy kisses across Webster’s neck and shoulders while Webster relishes the dual pleasures of Lieb’s hot mouth and wiry body pressed against him and the cool sheets and soft mattress beneath him, then Lieb says “This’ll be easier if you’re on your hands and knees,” and if David weren’t so eager to reap the rewards of cooperation he’d complain about having to abandon his comfortable sprawl, but instead he rolls over, lets Lieb nudge him into the desired position before he moves down the bed to rest behind Webster. "That's it, sweetheart, now spread your legs for me," and David still doesn't really understand Joe’s sudden change in approach, why his past inexperience matters so much, but it clearly does so he plays along, imaging how he might have acted that first time if he hadn't been so full of pent up frustration. Nervous probably, the slower pace giving him time to think about things too much and make himself self-conscious. Hell, it is strange to be so exposed in this room where they can have the lights on and their clothes off, and he's hyper aware of how he must look as he parts his legs slowly, Joe coaxing him along, "C'mon baby, open 'em up, nice and wide. Oh, look at you…"

He feels Lieb's calloused palms on his ass, spreading his cheeks apart, but instead of probing fingers pressing into his hole he feels a gust of warm breath against the sensitive skin. "I... Lieb!" He cries, "What are you..." and the touch he's anticipating comes, but it's not the rough scrape of Lieb's fingers, it's a wet slide of broad muscle over his rim that makes him cry out, too loud even in the privacy of the hotel room. “W-what…?”

"Oh, did this never get written about in those dirty books of yours?" Lieb drawls, and Webster swears he can hear him leering. "You'll like it Webster, you just keep that pretty ass of yours in the air, let me show you a real good time."

The touch returns, and David shivers, because _god_ that’s Lieb’s tongue probing between his cheeks and it’s a sensation nothing like anything he’s experienced previously, there’s an intimacy to it that has never been present between them before now, as Lieb’s tongue swipes around and over his hole and then presses ever so slowly in. He keeps one hand holding Webster open, while the other reaches down to caress Webster’s balls, and David almost can’t cope with the two competing sources of pleasure overwhelming him, sparks flying through his body and setting him shaking. It’s too much to hold himself up with his arms and he lets his upper body fall, face pressing into the pillows. Lieb’s tongue can’t get as deep as his fingers do, but it moves in ways Web could never have imagined and he has to bite his lip to quiet himself and because the sharp point of pain where his teeth dig in gives him the focus he needs to keep from coming apart.

Lieb matches the strokes of his hand to the thrusts of his tongue, working in harmony until Webster can’t help but chasing both sensations, writhing trapped between Lieb’s mouth and hand as he tries to feel everything.

Lieb moans and David can feel the vibrations of it in and outside of him and he loses it, an embarrassing keening noise escaping his throat as he shakes and streaks the sheets with come. He buckles, collapsing against the sheets, and Lieb follows, pressing kisses from the base of his back to the top of his trembling thighs. "Turn over for me, Web," he says, "C'mon let me see that gorgeous face of yours."

And, god, it sends a shudder through David to think what Lieb will see if he does. He feels more exposed than ever, like Lieb has stripped him down to his rawest elements, eyes wet and his lower lip bitten nearly bloody from his loosing fight to keep from making too much noise. Lieb’s soft touches are persuasive though, and he draws in a deep breath and allows himself to be rolled over. Lieb looks him over, open mouthed and dark eyed and there’s the slightest tinge of red in his cheeks though he’s never shared Webster’s unfortunately tendency towards blushing. “Damn…”

Joe gets to his knees and Webster can see that his cock is hard again, jutting from his body and Webster hasn’t even got his breath back from his last orgasm but that doesn’t stop his dick from twitching against his thigh at the sight. “Fuck me,” he murmurs, “Lieb, I want…”

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever you want,” Lieb says, but he doesn’t move, just stares at David like he’s trying to commit him to memory as he says, “Jeez, if I had a camera right now...”

The thought makes Webster squirm, Lieb talks like he’s seeing something very different from the mess David knows he must be, but Lieb is reaching over to drawer of the nightstand and pulls out a bottle, pouring some of its contents onto his fingers.

“…Is that gun oil?” Webster asks.

“Gotta get you ready,” Lieb says, like Webster hasn’t been ready for him since they were still on the couch.

“Spit worked fine before,” Webster points out.

Lieb pulls a face. “I don’t want this to be fine, Web. I want to be amazing, I'm gonna make it so good for you."

He pushes Webster’s leg up with one hand, while the other slides down to rub slick fingers against David’s entrance. Even the soft touch against the oversensitive skin makes Webster shiver, but it doesn’t keep him from wanting more as he rocks back against the touch until Lieb finally eases his fingers inside and Webster moans.

"Never got to look at you properly before,” Lieb says, slowing thrusting his fingers in and out, “Not when we were always stuck in the dark, but you're so beautiful like this.”

He crooks his fingers and Webster moans. “I’m ready.” He had assumed that Lieb was going to fuck him when they got into bed, and now he’s impatient to get what he’s been waiting for.

“Hey, there’s no rush,” Liebgott says, “We’ve got plenty of time to savor this-”

“Lieb!” Webster says, shocking himself with how demanding his tone is but it makes Joe grin.

“Ooooh, getting pushy now are you,” he teases, “You want my cock in you that badly.”

And David isn’t going to beg, not this time. “Want to see if you can live up to all your talk,” he challenges instead, spreads his thighs a little wider, knowing that Lieb will be unable to resist the taunt.

“Oh trust me,” Lieb says, positioning his cock against Webster’s ass, “I can.”

Lieb presses in so slow it’s almost torture. He’s opened Web up too thoroughly for there to be any of the usual stretching feeling, but he’s more aware than ever of how full he is, sensitive from having come once already.

“God you're so tight,” Lieb groans, “Even after I opened you up, shoulda known you'd never had anyone before. Guess I just can't believe that nobody else beat me too it, no Harvard boys giving you a different set of lessons.”

"They weren't... they didn't look at me, only you did."

Lieb laughs, wild, his teeth scraping at Webster's throat. "Oh Web, trust me they were looking at you, watching you and thinking about what they could teach you to do with your pretty lips and your virgin ass. I’ll bet they were just waiting for their chance, never knowing you were gonna run off to the paratroopers before they got their shot... leave them all for me..." He pulls out, then thrusts slowly back into Webster, repeats the move while his hand strokes unhurriedly up and down Webster’s thigh.

“Please Lieb, more,” Webster insists but Lieb shakes his head.

“C’mon Web, trust me,” is Lieb’s reply, rolling his hips languidly. “You know I give it to you better than any uptight college stiff could.”

 "Hey," Webster manages to protest, "I went to college, are you calling me uptight?"

"No, you're learning from the best,” Lieb says with a smirk.

"Smug doesn't suit you by the way." It's a lie and he can tell Lieb knows it.

“I…” Web twists his hips and Lieb loses track of his sentence for a moment, groaning instead. “I used to think about it sometimes, how I wanted to be the best you've ever had…”

“You are,” David gasps, but that’s not right, “You’re the best I’ll _ever_ have…”

“Yeah?”

The pace Lieb is setting isn’t what he’d have chosen but the deep thrusts and the slow drag of Lieb’s cock suits his sensitised body. Instead of the usual mounting tension he feels wrung out and slack with pleasure that’s building not in a hurry, but welling deep within him. “Nobody as good as you,” Webster moans. He can’t imagine anybody else taking him apart like Lieb does, understanding what he needs and giving it to him so perfectly.

"How about I'm the only one you ever have?” There's a slight quaver in Joe's voice as he says it. “The only guy who gets to have you like this?"

Agreement falls from Webster’s lips without him needing to pause for thought. “Yes, Lieb,” he gasps and he knows that he means it, “I don't want anybody else.”

Lieb leans towards Webster and kisses him like he’s trying to steal breath from him, and the shifting position means that Webster’s cock rubs against the firm muscles of Lieb’s stomach with every slow, even thrust, and the friction is enough that Webster can feel himself orgasming for a second time, come spurting onto Lieb’s belly and then dripping down onto Web’s own hairy stomach.

“That’s it. Come for me Web,” Lieb demands, voice breathy and desperate though he maintains his steady pace, and Webster whimpers as his worn out cock twitches with another spurt of come. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” David gasps, “Just yours, always.”

“Yeah,” Lieb says, eyes fluttering shut as his hips start to stutter, losing rhythm and grinding into Web as he fills him with his come. “Mine.” Webster’s never been in a good position to watch Joe’s face as he comes before, and he suddenly deeply regrets that fact because Joe is beautiful, dark lashes fluttering as his eyes go glassy and unfocused with pleasure, his lower lip catching between his teeth as he cries out and keels forward against Webster’s chest.

They rest for several blissful minutes, Lieb's deceptively skinny arms wrapped firmly around Web, but then Lieb rolls off of him and sits up. David fights the urge to cling despite how much he wants to keep Joe close, after all he’d just earlier protested that it was ridiculous of Lieb to treat him like some schoolgirl on prom night, so to act it now would be the height of foolishness. He does roll into the space that Lieb leaves behind when he climbs off of the bed though.

It seems like too much effort to open his eyes, and initially when he hears running water he simply assumes that Lieb is cleaning himself off, but when the flow doesn’t cease he opens his eyes to see Lieb standing over the bathtub, steam rising around him. He lets his eyes drift shut again, falls into a half a doze until he hears the quiet splash of Lieb entering the water and then Lieb’s voice calling his name.

“Web… c’mon, don’t sleep yet,” he calls over, “Gotta get you cleaned up, c’mere.”

David doesn’t feel much inclined to moving, but Joe is right, and if David falls asleep soaked with sweat and with come drying in his chest hair, he’ll regret it when he wakes. He rolls off of the mattress slowly, hanging onto to one of the bed-posts to steady himself as he stands. He clenches against the feel of Lieb’s come leaking from his ass at the changed position, but he can still feel it dripping out of him and trickling down his thigh as he pads across the room on unsteady legs. Lieb sits up in the bath, making room for David between his legs and Webster steps over the side of the bath and sinks into the water. It’s a big bathtub but it’s not designed for two and it’s a tight fit as he leans back until his head is resting against Lieb’s chest, the steady thud of his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his breathing as soothing as the water is.

Lieb produces a cloth, dipping it in the warm water and then using it to wipe the drying remains of his come of Webster’s face and whispers in Webster’s ear, "Suited you, being all spread out on those silk sheets.  Wish I could have had you in a bed before this."

"Doesn't matter," David answers dismissively. "You think I would have wanted to wait for the chance to be fancy when that meant risking losing any chance?"

"It matters," Joe insists, and there's a hint of anger in his eyes. "Maybe a bed wasn't an option, but I coulda found us somewhere better than the places we had, even in a war."

"Well the fighting's stopped for now..." David says, “Let’s just enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Yeah, Hitler finally kicked it, hip hip hooray,” Lieb says wryly, “Took the fucker long enough.” It's a faint solace. It won't be hotels and polite Austrian citizens for long, not with the pacific theatre looming on the horizon, a redeployment drawing closer with every sunrise. Then Lieb says, “No more war,” and it hits David with a sick jolt and a sinking feeling what that means.

Lieb must be going home. He has the points and is headed back to California, to his cab, to his family, back to where he belongs and thousands of miles away from Webster. Webster should probably be happy for him. God knows the war has been hard on them all, but Lieb has suffered more than many, he deserves a return to peace and to happiness. Liebgott shouldn’t have to live the horrors that they’ve watched in the newsreels, but Webster cannot deny that it makes him afraid to think that he’ll be facing the next enemy alone. He had been thinking of this like a reconciliation after the weeks of distance between them, but maybe it's just a premature goodbye.

David's made his promises, means them even if they'd been said in the throes of lust and he knows that Joe surely doesn’t intend to hold him to them. He doesn't want any other, can't imagine finding anyone who could match up, not in the pacific and certainly not back home among the Ivy League set. But Lieb has offered nothing in return, offered Webster no claim on him - not even the illusion of future, a dream to cling to in whatever hellish fields awaited.

"You're thinking too loudly," Joe grumbles. "C'mon, we're in a hot bath and there's clean sheets for the bed so nobody's gonna have to lay in the wet spot after, just relax."

There’s no amount of hot water in the world that could melt away the knot that has formed in David’s stomach, but for Joe he takes a deep breath and tries.

They lay there talking about nothing in particular until the water starts to grow cool. Lieb insists that Web stays in the tub while he is the one to remake the bed, which David would have been happy to help with but he’s not going to insist. It’s quite amusing to watch, he arranges the sheets to perfect regulation standards then looks a little lost as to what to do with all of the extra pillows and blankets, before just scattering them haphazardly across the bed. Finally, when Lieb decides the bed has been returned to an acceptable standard he agrees that David should get out of the bath. Webster promptly has to shoo him back towards the bed after he attempts to assist David with towelling off, which may or may not have been motivated by general helpfulness but is more inconvenience than aid.

Webster doesn’t both trying to redress, it isn’t cold enough to need it, he just slips under the covers. The bed is big enough for them both to have plenty of space to himself, but he lays close to Joe anyway.

“I’d almost forgotten what a proper bed felt like,” Lieb remarks. “It’s gonna feel unreal getting back home and sleeping in one every night.”

Webster laughs his agreement. “I _had_ forgotten real pillows existed, I swear to you.”

Lieb smiles dreamily. “Forget pillows, you know what I’m looking forward to most about going home. Sleeping in. First thing I’m gonna do when I get outta here, just find myself a bed and sleep till noon. And then I’m gonna get a big hot breakfast. Eggs and pancakes and hash browns…” Lieb makes a sound that wouldn’t not have been at all out of place during sex, but is a little odd given that he’s thinking about food. “What about you, Web? What’s the first think you’re gonna do when we get back?”

“I guess I’m not thinking that far ahead,” Webster says. And, god he doesn’t want to talk about this, doesn’t even want to think about this. Let this be a few stolen hours unsullied even the thought of more war.

“C’mon,” Lieb says, poking Webster in the chest with a grin. “What are you excited for after getting out of Europe?”

Webster could stay here forever, he has no great love of Austria and the hard bunks and tasteless food provided by the army but it’s better than the long, long journey he faces before he can even begin to think of going home. But he tries to manufacture an upside, since that seems like it’s what Lieb wants from him. “Well, I guess an extra jump star will look good on my uniform, and since we never did get to drop on Berlin, I guess I’ll have to make do with Tokyo instead.”

Lieb stills, grin shattering and leaving behind only devastation, and for a moment despite the difference in scenery it feels too similar to the last time they were together with such a sudden drop in the atmosphere at an innocent remark, and Webster wonders if Lieb’s affection will vanish and he’ll be left with the stony man of the last few weeks again.

“No.” Instead of cold, the word is burning with fury as Lieb surges forward, arms wrapping so tight around David’s chest that the air is nearly crushed about of his lungs.

“Lieb…”

“No!” Lieb snaps, presses his forehead against Webster’s. “Redeployment?! Christ, Web, you’ve been with us since Toccoa, how can you not have the points? How many are you short?”

David sighs. “Four… I’m four points short.” And he knows why too. A single combat award would bring him up over the threshold, just one more combat award like the ones earned by all of the guys who’d been present in Bastogne. The pacific will be his penance for waiting for the system to send him back to where he ought to have been instead of taking the initiative and getting himself there.

Lieb shakes his head. “Fuck Web, _no_. You ain’t gonna go,” there’s a shake in his voice that Webster can hardly bear to hear as Joe says, “They can’t have you.” But they both know it’s a lie, they’re both just cogs in the war machine and if the army says jump then Webster has to jump.

“It’s fine,” David says, because if they’re going to hold onto a lie it might as well be a practical one. “I ended up getting injured and sent away from the action at Normandy; I landed myself four months in hospital after Market Garden; knowing my luck I’ll get stuck in some hospital again, miles away from any useful action, and probably because of the same leg too.”

He thought the reminder of his frustrating luck, always just injured enough to keep him from the real dangers, might amuse Lieb but instead he punches Webster’s arm. “Don’t say that, idiot. Do you want to tempt fate? You know they’ll probably try and ship you out with a bunch of useless fucking replacements. What if it’s a third strike and you’re done for good?” Joe pales even as he says it, and it takes every ounce of strength David has to keep from flinching, because of course he’s thought of that, his luck has to run out sometime, but there’s no use on dwelling on something he’s helpless to fight.

He ducks his head so that he doesn’t have to look at Lieb, and so that Lieb won’t see that he’s being a coward as he mutters, “Your plan sounds better,” if he were braver he’d face up to the truth of his chances, but David needs something hopeful to cling to so he says, “I could use some ideas for when I get back… what else are you going to do?”

If Lieb notices the uncertainty in Webster’s tone he has the kindness to ignore it as he says, “I’m going to get myself a house, and you’re going to come to California, okay Web? Once you’ve got your degree you’re coming back to me even if I have to drive to fucking Boston and fetch you,” Lieb decrees, as if Webster wouldn’t do anything in his power to get there. Fuck, he’d only planned on going back to Harvard because it was the most obvious option, but surely there were colleges in California that would accept a transfer of his credits.

“If I were a rich guy I'd buy a place like this, keep you in a big bed with dozens of pillows and fancy curtains, a room with thick carpets and radiators and..." Lieb trails off, but Webster knows what he's thinking of. Some place that's as far from a foxhole as it's possible to get, some place private and comfortable and _safe_.

“I never cared much about decorating, but I always wanted to live near the beach,” Webster offers, and an air of determination settles over Lieb.

“The beach huh? Plenty of beaches in California,” he declares, twisting his fingers around David’s.

“Yeah?” David doesn’t know what the market in San Francisco is like, but he knows enough about money in general to know that a beachfront property is certainly out of an enlisted soldiers price range, but he lets himself picture it anyway; a little house, only one bedroom but there are no neighbours to question it, with a porch they could sit together on and watch as the waves rushed up the sand, everything glowing pink in the light of the sun setting into the sea.

“Yeah Web,” Lieb says, so soft it’s barely more than a breath. “I’ll make it perfect. You’ll come back to me and everything is gonna be perfect.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for a little smut fic in which Webster is actually a virgin and Liebgott is surprised by this and then somehow it got totally out of control and now I have this. Yikes.
> 
> Title from When You Were Young by The Killers.


End file.
